Page 117 of Starrily

She examined the room, wringing her hands around the string remaining on her wrists. “Raleigh?” If his part of the ritual was successful, he’d show up, right? She didn’t know how he’d look and what would happen afterward, but he’d show up. “Raleigh?”

Her eyes darted around the room and to Nana and Mom. “Where is he?”

Nana looked at Mom and shook her head.

“No,” Callie said. “It has to work. Maybe he just hasn’t manifested yet?”

“I don’t know.” Mom hugged her middle.

“The cat,” Nana said. “If he’s here, she’ll know.”

“Theia!” Callie cooed, and Theia came running from a corner. “Find him, girl. Can you find him?”

Theia listened to her attentively, then started walking around the room, carefully sniffing the petals left on the floor; the legs ofthe table; even the walls. But after a few minutes, she returned to Callie and meowed.

“Where is he?”

Theia meowed again and rubbed against her leg.

Mom stepped behind her and hugged her. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No.” Callie shook her head, wilder and wilder. “No.” He couldn’t be gone. She was willing to accept many things—witches and ghosts and resurrections—but this … even though she knew it was a possibility, she couldn’t take it. She had to lose him either way; but she’d give everything to know he was somewhere out there, living his new-old life, happy, just not knowingher. She didn’t matter—what mattered was thathewas well.

But he wasn’t. He was gone.

“There was always a chance.” Nana covered Callie’s hand with hers; warm and wrinkly and comforting. “You did as much as you could. In the end, you helped him.”

“I helped him die.” Callie choked on tears.

“That ain’t true, and you know it,” Nana said. “I saw everything that was in his heart. You helped him live.”

Chapter 28

Six months later

Callie’s alarm licked her cheek and swished her tail into Callie’s face before hopping off the bed. Callie yawned and stretched her arms, then lifted into a sitting position.

Theia slowly swished her tail as if trying to say, “Well, get on with it.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Callie said and wobbled to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she was refreshed, much more awake, and ready to take on the day. She set to prepare her tea and, while that was brewing, sat by the kitchen counter and leafed through her speech, left here from the night before. She’d crammed as many notes as possible into the empty spacesbetween the printed paragraphs: she’d scribbled, then crossed out remarks and added new ones below.

“All right, our candidates for the opening line.” Callie turned to Theia, who was sitting on the sofa’s backrest. “You vote. Number one.” Holding the paper in her hand, she took a confident stance. “An astronomer and an astrologist walk into the bar …”

Theia remained motionless.

“Not a fan, huh? But it’d be such a good joke about barred galaxies.”

Theia swished her tail once.

“Fine, I get it. It’s too much. Opening line candidate number two.Phew, look at the time! I should be in bed right now.”

Theia swished her tail once.

“You’re right. That would be recycling old material. Shame on me. Okay, candidate number three.You might think studying space—”

Theia hopped off the couch and onto the bookshelf, where she carefully wove around three framed photographs arranged on the second-to-the-top shelf. Callie leaped after her. “No, no, don’t knock them off.”